


death never sounds better before

by MirTheOne



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Darker than most things I wrote before, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Look this shit is pretty dark, M/M, Not as bad as some other stories from this fandom but, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17372618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirTheOne/pseuds/MirTheOne
Summary: Whitaker after Zosimos' execution.Read the tags, please.





	death never sounds better before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InexpungibleParonomasia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InexpungibleParonomasia/gifts).



> Consider this a late birthday present, Dae. Other than that random child, every character belongs to DaelyPuns.

Whenever Whitaker thought his life couldn’t get any worse, it found a way to do so.

The days after Zosimos’ death was horrible. Whitaker found himself waking up just to wander around aimlessly in his house, avoiding the armchair Zosimos always loved like a plague. Too many sorrows, too much pain. The grief that the armchair caused him was too much. It was more of a tombstone than a furniture.

And yet he couldn’t muster the will to move that chair somewhere else... Ha.

He would then collapse into his bed and mourned to sleep. Rinse and repeat. On good days he would eat something, barely enough to satiate his hunger, _then_ collapse. On _very_ good days, he would get dressed and visit Zosimos’ grave. But those days were getting rarer and rarer.

He once saw a child put frangipanis on Zosimos’ grave, but he started to doubt himself. Why would a child, a literal child who probably never knew Zosimos put flowers in his grave? He must be seeing things. The doctor was wrong. He’s borderline delusional by now.

He thought he had hit rock bottom then, but relating to the crazed delusions of the Jester proved to be the shovel that dug him deeper.

Whitaker found himself barely holding onto the last threads of sanity. Something about the jester had thrown him off the deep end, and he kept sinking and sinking and sinking and no one would notice no one no one no one cared not even him care that something was wrong—

A small glance towards the abandoned packets of grounded coffee was all it took for him to break into pieces.

Everything was a blur. He heard screaming and sobbing from a distance, he heard Zosimos welcoming him home, he _saw_ Zosimos standing before him, he’s smiling oh god his smile was so warm so so beautiful his _eyes_ dear lord his eyes was the brightest thing he had ever seen and he held out a hand and Whitaker reached out—

And he’s lying on the cold, hard floor of his kitchen.

The soft moonlight must be mocking him.

Whitaker thought he would start sobbing again, but he surprised himself by _laughing_.

He thought he would never smile again, much less laugh, but that night, Whitaker laughed so hard his stomach ached. Tears flowed freely from his eyes but for once, they’re not tears of sorrow. Those were tears of hysteria and madness. Tears that came as Whitaker laughed at himself, at this pitiful world, at the idea of _death_.

Ah...

Death...

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Sure, it must hurt quite a bit but...

At least Zosimos was waiting on the other side.

The next time he visited Zosimos’ grave, he was due to execution, and so he came empty-handed. 

A soft whisper escaped his mouth, “I’m dying, but don’t worry.”

The same crazed that had been decorating his face for weeks appeared, a match with his dead, blank eyes.

“I’m going to see you again.”

Whitaker thought he saw frangipanis on his grave that day, but he must be delusional.

Those flowers were too fresh, almost as if it was placed that morning.

It’s not like he ever brought anything other than jasmines anyway.


End file.
